Rubbing her eyes, Morgan broke away from his embrace. “Did you find any other survivors?”
“Only ones who want to kill us,” Caplan replied.
Morgan didn’t scream or break down crying. But the look of dull despair in her features spoke volumes.
“I did this,” Caplan said. “I brought the disease here.”
Her gaze shifted to him. Her brow furrowed.
“Corbotch’s goon injected me aboard the helicopter,” Caplan explained. “I thought they were immunizing me against HA-78.”
“But instead they infected you,” she said, slowly. “And you infected everyone else. So, why am I still alive?”
“Because of this.” Caplan held up the pill container. “Corbotch’s pilot gave it to me on the sly. I didn’t understand why until just now.”
“Let me see that.” More clashes and clattering rang out. Ignoring the ruckus, she took the pill container, opened it, and studied the tablets. Then she recapped it, handed it back. “Hold on to this.”
“You want to study them?”
“Actually, I was thinking about more immediate concerns. Without those tablets, you’ll kill everyone you meet.”
Caplan’s eyes widened.
The grunts grew louder. Flesh and muscle slammed into the door. Metal screeched as the barricade shifted a couple of inches across the vinyl flooring. A hand, clutching a pistol, snaked into the void.
Caplan pushed Morgan to the ground. A couple of gunshots, all wild, streaked overhead. Then the hand disappeared and the assault on the barricade started up again.
Caplan eyed the myriad of weapons littering the floor. “We can hold them off,” he said. “But not forever.”
“Then it’s time we make our exit.” Morgan crawled under the nearest table. Caplan followed suit and they made their way to the back of the room. Upon arriving, Morgan rose to her knees and grabbed the hatch’s handle.
Caplan frowned. “Are you sure about this?”
“The gate’s in the Lab.”
“So is the bear.”
She gave him a little smirk. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”
“Let’s just say being bear food isn’t on my bucket list.” Caplan’s face twisted in thought. “Will the gate even work without power?”
She nodded. “There’s a crank mechanism.”
“And after we get through the gate?”
“We enter a short tunnel. It opens up into a natural cave in Sector 12. After that…” She shrugged.
Due to the steep cliffs, few animals bothered with 12 and thus, it was almost always free of predators. But what would they do when they got there? They couldn’t just sit around, twiddling their thumbs. Sooner or later, Pearson would show up, probably with the big shots in tow.
The smart move was to head for the helicopter, to seize it. Yes, that could work. If they were fast, they’d only have to deal with Corbotch and Perkins. And Perkins had already secretly helped Caplan by passing on the pill container.
Caplan grabbed the metal handle and helped Morgan pull. The hatch yawned open. He stepped over to the ladder. Stared into the dark shaft.
I must be out of my mind, he thought.
But he grabbed hold of the ladder anyway.
And slid into the waiting darkness.
Chapter 46
“What’s he doing up there?” Mills fixed her gaze on the metal ladder and accompanying shaft. A dull thumping noise, coming from high above, filled her ears. “Running laps?”
Elliott kept her focus locked on a wheel-shaped object. Constructed from a tough, opaque plastic-type material, it measured about four feet thick and roughly twice that in diameter. “Probably seeing how fast he can pat himself on the back.”
With a faint smile, Mills turned her attention back to the strange room. Sixteen wheels, identical in shape and size, occupied most of the space. They were positioned in a perfect circle. Thick cables connected them to a centrally located bank of computer monitors and machines.
Shelves, cabinets, metal tables, and other pieces of furniture sat outside the circle of wheels. For nearly an hour, Mills had strained her eyes in the near-blackness, searching for clues to their whereabouts. A small part of her knew it was a foolhardy exercise. Her time would’ve been better spent fixing up the broken fence and cabin. But still, she continued her search.
Mills snuck a glimpse at Elliott, at a scattered array of tools. The woman sat next to one of the wheels, driven by a seemingly-urgent need to pry one open. Mills understood that need. She felt the exact same thing when it came to the mysteries — how they’d gotten there, the extinct animals, the strange barn-like building and even stranger basement — that surrounded her.
Mills opened the top drawer of a small chest. Swiftly, she searched the contents. They were relatively innocuous — extra file folders, binder clips, packages of light bulbs — until she reached the bottom of the drawer.
Her heart beat a little faster as she pulled a laminated sheet of paper, eleven inches by fourteen inches, out into the open. She squinted at it, barely making out the small printed words. “I got something,” she said.
Elliott dropped a flat-head screwdriver, letting it clunk against the floor. Then she picked up a slightly larger one and returned to the wheel. “Yeah?”
“It’s a map. Of the Vallerio Forest.”
Elliott’s grip tightened on the screwdriver. “You sure?”
“That’s what it says. The Vallerio Foundation is listed as the author.”
“And James Corbotch owns the Foundation. I guess that settles it. We’re here because he put us here.”
“Yes.” Mills scrunched up her brow in thought. “But it doesn’t make sense. This can’t be the Vallerio.”
“Why not?”
“The saber for one thing. The woolly mammoths for another.” She shook her head. “The Vallerio isn’t some distant jungle, isolated from civilization. It’s in the U.S., for cripes sakes.”
“Yeah, but in northern New Hampshire,” Elliott replied. “It’s like America’s version of Siberia.”
“It’s still in the U.S.”
“The Corbotch Empire fenced off the Vallerio well over a century ago. They use cameras and armed guards to keep people out. And they paid off bureaucrats to make it an official Prohibited Area, so pilots can’t even fly over it. It’s the Fort Knox of forests.”
“So, what are you saying? That they did all that to protect a few supposedly extinct species?”
“I’m merely saying if sabers or mammoths lived in the Vallerio, it’s not inconceivable that James could keep it a secret. Seriously, how could anyone possibly find out?”
“By getting dumped here.”
“Good call.” Elliott removed a long screw. Abruptly, one side of the wheel came loose. She ducked out of the way, narrowly dodging a piece of heavy plastic as it thudded to the ground. “Ohmigod.”
Mills turned around. With the side removed, she could see the wheel’s interior. Its core was hollowed out. A lumpy object, shaped like a flattened S turned sideways, lay inside it. Shadowy, curvy lines connected the object to areas inside the wheel.
A sweet, sickly scent spread through the basement. Mills’ face twisted involuntarily. “Ugh,” she said. “What is that?”
“A person,” Elliott said, backing away. “A dead person.”
The body of a twenty-something year-old man rested on curved cushions, similar to those in a dentist’s chair. His back and head were upright. His knees were propped above his rear and feet. His head lolled to one side, mouth ajar as if ready for a bi-annual check-up.
A gray surgical gown rested gently upon the man’s body. Wires and tubes snaked out of the back wall and under the gown, presumably connecting the corpse to the wheel.